Darkest Before Dawn
by NicKenny
Summary: Gotham's changed. Bruce Wayne wakes up from a coma to discover that Superheroes have been enslaved by the Government, robbed of their free will as the world's strongest telepath rises. He can't do this alone. Unfortunately, only the villains can help him.
1. Chapter One: Rude Awakening

**(A/N) I was inspired to write this by a combination of factors. Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, Smallville and an incredibly written fanfiction (sadly unfinished) called Gotham: Hidden Identities all played a role. Along with a rather weird series of nightmares. Go figure. I introduced one character into the DC world leading to a situation where the villains must save the world. That's about as spoilerish as I'm willing to go. You'll have to read on to see how it goes. For those interested I've always pictured Batman as the Christian Bale version, the Joker á la Heath Ledger and the Batman: Arkham Asylum version of Harley Quinn. I love reviews so please provide some. If anyone has any thoughts on what they'd like to happen next or on what characters should be brought in, I would be more than happy to listen, or in this case, read, though I can't promise that I will go with all (or any) suggestions. I'm funny like that. Any questions on the series, feel free to message me.**

_The majority of characters and locations used in this work of fiction are property of DC comics. All the copyrights associated with this story belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. Lawsuits are not welcome here._

**Chapter One: Rude Awakening**

_The man looked down at the newspaper headline. It ran: JUSTICE LEAGUE DISBAND. He tried to laugh but his voice caught mid-chuckle and turned into a sob, which was followed by several more, the man's body convulsing each time. In smaller type, to the side of the page read: TWO MONTHS WITHOUT BATMAN. A teardrop collected in the bottom corner of his left eye until it inevitably spilled and ran down the side of his face, leaving a streak through his white makeup. "He's really gone, isn't he?" he muttered mid-sob. A woman sat down beside him, and rubbed his shoulder in a consoling manner. Her blonde hair was collected into two pigtails and her face was coated in white makeup, with black eyeshadow in a manner similar to the man's. He however, sported a huge, unnatural grin on his face, highlighted by the fact that he had smeared what could only be bright red lipstick over it. "I don't get it Mr J? Isn't this good news for us?" The man looked up at her, smiling sadly. He stroked the side of her face fondly and sighed. "Oh Harley, you just don't see it, do you? What am I without him? What will I do? What's the point in causing mayhem, if no one is able to stop you? Where's the fun in that? I just…. I just….." the man's voice trailed off, as he stared at the paper in front of him, staring at the picture of the costumed vigilante known as Batman. Harley kissed his forehead and walked out of the room, realising that he needed space. The man continued to look down at the newspaper and sighed again, his face full of confusion. "I just don't know what to do….."_

Bruce Wayne opened his eyes and blinked several times in an attempt to clear his vision. He took in the room around him, gradually becoming aware of the variety of machines surrounding him, the sickly cream walls, the flowers on a table next to him, the large windows looking out on one of the better areas of Gotham, Robinson Park just visible in the distance. That could only mean one thing. Hospital. Gotham City Hospital, judging by the view. Damn. He moaned as he attempted to sit up, feeling weaker than he ever had before. He paused, resting his back against the headboard.

_What happened? _He wondered, trying to remember how he ended up here but to no avail. The last day he could remember had been unusually quiet, the sort that you got once every couple of years. A crime free day. Highly unusual in Gotham. Screw it, unusual in any major city, even Metropolis. And that's with Clark and his similarly gifted cousin flying around flying around. Finished patrolling, talked to Oliver Queen over the phone. Something had been bothering him. Then he had gone home, had to attend some sort of charity gala, filled with intensely dull aristocrats, then…nothing. A pair of green eyes seemed to fit into the scene somewhere….. No, he couldn't remember, it seemed to be just on the edge of his mind but the harder he tried to concentrate, the further away it seemed. He sighed and let his gaze wander around the room. He focused on the flowers at his bedside table. Chrysanthemums. An envelope lay next to them, with READ ME written on the front in huge, block capital letters.

Bruce leant over to the table, wincing as the movement caused his muscles to flare up. _I must have been out for a long time. _He thought to himself. He picked up the envelope and gently sat back against the headboard again. He tore the envelope open, careful not to damage the contents inside. He took out a piece of paper and froze as he read the message.

I'M GLAD TO SEE YOU'VE FINALLY WOKEN UP. THE WORLD'S GONE AND CHANGED WHILE YOU'VE BEEN AWAY. GET OUT OF THE HOSPITAL NOW! DO NOT BE SEEN! YOU ARE IN GRAVE DANGER. YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME. MAKE SURE NO ONE FOLLOWS YOU. SEE YOU SOON, BRUCIE.

"What? I don't know who you are. Why can't I ever get some concise, succinct explanations? Hell, I'd even settle for laconic." Bruce muttered as he reached for the envelope again in hope of identifying the sender. There was nothing else marked on the outside of the envelope. He turned it upside down and began to shake it when something rectangular fell out. A playing card.

Bruce held his breath as he turned the card over, already knowing what he would see. He wasn't disappointed. The Joker. _The plot thickens_. He thought wryly. Why would the Joker want to talk to him, to keep him out of danger? It just didn't make sense. His last two encounters with the Clown Prince of Crime, as the newspapers had dubbed him, had not gone well for either party. The first time, the Joker's first appearance in the city, he had killed dozens of people, including Bruce's childhood friend Rachel Dawes, the only woman he had ever loved, except perhaps for Selina, but Selina Kyle was…..confusing. He had also managed to wiped out most of Gotham's mob bosses, maimed and perverted the mind of Harvey Dent, then Gotham's District attorney, and turned him into the criminal Two-Face. And, not least, managed to turn Gotham against Batman.

The Joker had spent a year in Arkham Asylum, where he managed to seduce a Dr Harleen Quinzel, who helped break him out of Arkham and became his right hand, taking the name Harley Quinn. During his time out the Joker continued with his plan to prove to Batman that the world wasn't worth fighting for, attempting to destroy James Gordon's morality by torturing and eventually crippling his daughter, Barbara. Batman had caught up with him eventually but had been too late to stop him harming Barbara. She would spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.

No, Bruce wanted nothing to do with the Joker.

But….if he could get close enough to leave the envelope and the flowers, why hadn't he just killed Bruce. However, the more worrying thing was, the thing that rang through his head over and over again was, how did the Joker know who he was.

Bruce quickly unhooked himself from the machines around him, ignoring the noise they made in protest. If the Joker _had_ done this, then he needed Bruce alive more than dead. The Joker may not be entirely sane, actually not even slightly sane, but he always looked out for one thing. Himself. If he had passed up on the opportunity to finally kill Batman, then that could mean only one thing. Something was seriously wrong. _The world's gone and changed while you've been away. _The words rang through his head, over and over.

"This had better not be a joke." Bruce muttered as he climbed out of the bed. He staggered, legs unused to walking, but managed to keep his balance. He walked out of the room into a corridor, and slowly walked down it, bumping into a male nurse on the way. He swiftly apologised to the nurse and walked onwards, fingering the set of keys that he just swiped from the nurse's pocket. He glanced down at the keys. One had the number 136 on it.

Bingo.

Bruce walked through the A & E ward, walking quickly, hoping that he wouldn't be recognised. He slipped into the male locker room, where the surgeons and nurses kept their clothes during work hours. His eyes scanned the room. 145….140…135….There! 136. He opened the locker door and hurriedly put on the clothes. He had judged the man well, the clothes fitted perfectly, even if he couldn't remember the last time he wore jeans and a sweatshirt. And unnaturally white runners. Honestly? They'd be no good for crime-fighting; they'd show up a mile off. Destroy the whole point of darkness. Bruce shook himself and left the room, walking through the reception, head lowered. He walked out of the GCH into a busy Gotham city.

The sidewalk was thronged with people and the traffic problem on the streets was as bad as he remembered. _Perhaps not everything's changed. _He made his way to Robinson Park, hoping to find some peace and quiet to sort out his next move. He felt exhausted; a testament to what inactivity can do to you. He was as physically weak as he had ever been. He couldn't face the Joker like this.

Not that he even knew where the Joker would be.

He sat down on a park bench panting. A newspaper had been left on the side of the bench, discarded by its owner in a shameful display of littering. Then again, this was Gotham. Littering was never high up on the city's combat on crime. He picked up the newspaper. The front page displayed a new skyscraper being constructed in the centre of Gotham with the heading DEVINE TOWER ON SCHEDULE. The tower was apparently to be the international headquarters of a global firm, Devine Industries. Bruce had never heard of them. And that tower was at least six months underway, given how long it would have taken to get planning permission. How long had he been out for? His eyes widened as he glanced at the date on the top corner of the page. October 4, 2014.

He had been unconscious for over three years.

He focused on the picture of the Tower in construction and paused as recognition dawned. The buildings in the background looked remarkably similar to what the view to the north of Wayne Tower. And Bruce knew Gotham like the back of his own hand. Better. "Oh god." He muttered, eyes quickly scanning the article, random sentences catching his eye such as "_amalgamation of Queen Industries, LexCorp and Wayne Industries", "Ms Devine stated earlier today, many will remember her from her rather pivotal support of the Metahuman Restriction Act", " after providing major funding for the President presidential campaign, chose his city of birth as their international headquarters" _and _"planning to make Gotham, the city of the future". _

He beganflicking through the pages of the newspaper until he found what he was looking for. On the bottom of the twenty-third page the headline read, THIRD YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF DISSOLUTION OF JLA. He dropped the paper onto his lamp, feeling numb. He stared out onto the lake. _The world's gone and changed…._ The article cited the disappearance of Batman, along with the strongly anti-vigilante policies of the then-newly appointed Government as causes. He couldn't make himself read any further.

He had no choice. He had to see the Joker. If the JLA had disbanded then the Joker hadn't been exaggerating, the world had indeed changed. And Bruce suddenly knew exactly where he would find him.

He walked through the alleys in Gotham's slum district with his hood up, hiding his face. He wasn't sure what he would do if someone actually tried to rob or attack him. He was in no shape to fight back. However, not only did he get through the area without trouble, he didn't even see any evidence of crime.

That was….odd.

At this time of the day this part of the city should be filled with streetwalkers, pimps, small-time drug dealers and gang members patrolling their territories. This was….wrong. Good, obviously, but wrong all the same. He eventually made it to the building he was looking for. Formerly a drug-den run by small time gangsters, Bruce had last visited the building when it was the Joker's headquarters after he managed to break out of Arkham.

Why the asylum continued to drain the city's funds was a mystery too great for even Bruce to work out. Arkham's security was a complete joke. And it had, time and time again, failed to rehabilitate those incarcerated within its walls. He had incapacitated the Joker, and left him in the hands of the police. However, if it was the Joker who had sent Bruce the message, this is where he would be.

He cautiously opened the front door, inside the place was as squalid and rundown as he remembered. The windows were boarded up, with only the smallest amount of light being let in, just enough for Bruce to make out a table and the shape of what was presumably a sofa. He couldn't locate a light switch so he carefully made his way over to the table, where a small, rectangular shape lay. A playing card. Another joker.

This one was different though, because written in some sort of fluorescent ink that shone through the gloom there were two words. LOOK DOWN. Bruce glanced down at the floor and noticed a small red light near his feet. He immediately took a step back, due to both training and instinct. The light blinked off and returned, green this time and a harsh beep emitted from it.

"BOOOOOM!" screamed the sofa, or more precisely, the man sitting on the sofa that had previously been unnoticeable, to the extent that Bruce would have sworn the man hadn't been there before. Bruce was furious at himself. This would never have happened but for his time spent comatose. Time had blunted his abilities.

Even in the gloom, Bruce could still make out the scars that ran along the sides of the man's face, the only example of a "Glasgow smile" that he had only ever seen on one man, giving the man the appearance of having a huge grin on his face. However, the man frowned uncharacteristically sadly and muttered. "I really thought that would be funnier. Guess anticipation spoiled joke?"

"Joker." Bruce stated grimly.

"Of course it's me Bats. It's good to have you back. What's happened since you've been gone is simply…" the Joker paused and grinned hugely. "INSANE!"


	2. Chapter Two: Old Acquaintances

**(A/N) Big thanks to all those who've read the first chapter. This series is to be a Batman/Smallville crossover as you'll immediately realise. As I stated before I LOVE reviews, so feel free to leave any comments or suggestions. I personally picture both Speedy and Green Arrow as their Smallville versions. Thanks for reading! **

_The majority of characters and locations used in this work of fiction are property of DC comics. All the copyrights associated with this story belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. Lawsuits are not welcome here._

**Chapter Two: Old Acquaintances**

_A girl ran along the rooftops of Metropolis, vaulting over and jumping across gaps just large enough for a person to make successfully. She had clearly ran the same route many times before, her feet not missing a step, leaping over walls that could have so easily led to a fifty foot drop but didn't. Her eyes were covered by a pair of black sunglasses, but tears streaked down the side of her face. She was evidently what the world now knew as a "cape"._

_She wore a sleeveless red leather jacket, with yellow stripes slashing through it, with the yellow hood up. The outfit was completed with a pair of red leather trousers, yellow from the knees down, calf-high combat boots, a bow slung over her shoulder, a crossbow on one hip and a quiver of arrows on the other. A strand of blonde hair fell across her eyes, which she brushed back into her hood. "Get a grip Mia!" she muttered to herself vaulting over the edge of a building._

_She hit the ground rolling and kept running. _Oliver said he'd be patrolling suicide slum tonight. Normally he'd leave it to Superman these days but Clark had been acting odd for the last three months. He wasn't himself any more. Definitely not himself. Not after what she'd seen tonight.

_She scanned the rooftops on the other side of the street, desperately hoping that she'd find the green-clad vigilante. _No…nothing…wait! THERE! _He looked up, sensing that someone was watching him. She could just make out his mouth curve upward into a smile as he noticed her. _

_They both made their way down to street level. He was clearly grinning as he walked over to her. "Decided to help out after all?" he joked before noticing the tears running down her face. He grabbed her shoulders after pulling off his sunglasses, lowering his head so that they were face to face. "Mia, what's wrong? What's happened?"_

_Mia shook, trying to supress a sob. "They…they…took her. They took Dinah. " she managed, before breaking into tears. Oliver looked worried. "What? Who took her Mia?" Mia sobbed again, and then shook herself, trying to regain composure. "A.C did…... And Clark…. They knocked her out….. then Clark… zoomed them off somewhere." Oliver stared at her, clearly considering the implications. He then looked up, some sixth sense trying to call his attention. _

_He looked down at Mia again and spoke quickly. "Mia, I need you to listen. You've got to go. Right now. I need you to get out of Metropolis, okay? Start running and don't look back." She nodded to show that she understood. Oliver relaxed, and his hands left her shoulders. "Go!" he said, as he took out his bow and nocked an arrow against it. "GO!"_

_Mia began running, not knowing where she was running to or entirely why she was running at all, but she knew Oliver. This was serious. She had made it about a block when a huge explosion erupted behind her. The noise was deafening. She spun around and in the distance made out two dark figures flying up into the sky. One of them appeared to be holding something. Or someone. She watched the figures sail into the sky until she could see them no longer. A tear ran down the side of her face, which was a picture of misery. She moaned out a single word. "Oliver…."_

Bruce grabbed the Joker and lifted him up so that they were face to face. His whole body protested at this over-exertion but he overruled it. He needed answers. "Start. Talking. Now."

The Joker sighed. "You know, Bats. I was expecting this to be a happier occasion. Maybe not joyful, given our history, but aren't you glad to see me?"

Bruce leaned in, so that his face was millimetres away from the Joker's. "Our history? You killed Rachel Dawes, crippled Barbara Gordon and destroyed Harvey Dent, who was Gotham's best hope for peace, and turned him into Two-Face, one of its worst criminals. The only reason why I haven't killed you is because I want to know what's happened in the last three years and you're the only one around! What happened after I went into a coma? And I want the truth, Joker!"

Joker sighed again. "Oh Bats. We both know you won't kill me. It's your one rule. Though I think it's crazy, personally. And the government don't care about washed up criminals like me."

"Washed-up? Why, what's going on? The JLA disbanded, shouldn't it be like Christmas every day for you and your kind?" Bruce asked angrily.

"Personally," the Joker began. "I never liked Christmas. Halloween now, that's when there's _fun_ to be had. It's my sort of festivity." He winced as Bruce tightened his grip, squirming uncomfortably. "It's not the JLA that's the problem. It's the Shadows. They've taken the fun away. There's no crime in Gotham these days." the Joker sadly muttered. "We're relics from a forgotten time, my friend. The fat lady's sung. Game Over. Insert Coin."

"Who are the Shadows? How have they stopped crime? Start making sense!"

Joker started to speak and then paused. "How to start this dramatically? Ah, I know. Two-Face isn't dead."

Bruce froze. "What?"

"He survived that little fall, Bats! And do you want to know the punch line? He's President of the United States. Ambitious, that man. And to think, if you hadn't taken the fall for his crimes none of this would have happened! Priceless!" Joker didn't laugh at this however, which unsettled Bruce. Joker always laughed. All the time. It was part of who he was, just like the white face, green hair and red lips. All of which were missing in this picture.

Bruce snorted. " What do you mean Two-Face is alive? I killed him. HE HAD NO PULSE! What happened to you? You were never this pathetic before."

Joker hissed in anger. "What happened? I'll tell you what happened! You went missing Bats….. What was I without you? Yin without Yang….. Then the Shadows took Harley…. Crime became unprofitable... And after that, nothing seemed funny anymore. I can't remember when I last laughed. I miss laughing… It made things seem… less dark."

"I thought you thrived in the darkness?"

"Not anymore. Not when the darkness is all too often made up of Shadows…."

Bruce didn't like how this was going. The Joker had never been like this. He seemed…..defeated. "What are the Shadows?"

The Joker paused, and then shrugged. "They're your guys, Bats. Though, I think you'll find that they're not your guys any longer. They're not even their own guys any longer. They're _hers_." The Joker spat out the last two words with real hate in his voice, the first real show of emotion from him so far.

"Whose?"

"Hers!" the Joker said again. "She started all this. She made you think Two-Face died! She got us support her, promising us the end of "superheroes", she promised us a new dawn, where we controlled the world! Look how far we've fallen. I'm not even the worst. She betrayed us!" The Joker rambled, losing track of the conversation until Bruce shook him.

"Who did she betray?" Bruce asked, realising that the Joker was more than happy to answer, just needed prodding to keep up with what he was saying. He was a far cry from the psychopathic genius that had almost held Gotham to ransom several years before.

The Joker stared at Bruce, intense hatred in his eyes, his words spat at with hatred. "Us. The bad guys. The scum of the earth. She got our help and got us to locate your guys. The super-freaks. Then she took them over and we became…..surplus to requirements. She always was…funny. Then she didn't need us anymore. She laughed at us, calling us jokes. Calling us fossils from a time past…. Maybe she was right…."

"Took them over?"

The Joker grinned. "Yeah. Took control of their minds. Girl was a fucking telepath! She went after the strongest of your freaks. Superman, Aquaman, Green Lantern and a few others…. Who comes up with those names? No style…."

Bruce let go of the Joker and sat down, head in his hands. Joker stared at him for a couple of seconds, confused, then shrugged and sat down across from him.

"Should I just keep rambling on or do you want a moment?" the Joker asked wretchedly, offering a pathetic smile as the silence grew.

Bruce sighed heavily. "Why didn't you stop her?" He muttered. "Why didn't you do something?"

The Joker's smile faded. "Because she had a lot of us under her control already. All the superpowers. All the fighters. The only ones she couldn't control were the mental cases like me. The nutjobs. The psychopaths. So she scared us off…." He mumbled, unwilling to continue.

Bruce looked up slowly. "How." He asked hoarsely.

"She showed us what would happen to us….." Joker paused, until Bruce motioned for him to continue. "She….she made Freeze kill his wife…"

Bruce sat there stunned but the Joker just frowned and continued on. "Then Lex Luthor took a dive….off the LexCorp Tower. That's not something you just shrug off… Then Croc swallowed a grenade…after pulling the pin. After that, we didn't go near her. We didn't even talk about her."

Bruce stared through the gloom at the outline of the table. "What happened then?"

"What's the worst thing you're thinking of? Bingo! I'll go back to the start. Be clearer. You went into a coma. Then the supers started acting weird. Announced the end of your top-secret boy band. Then, the super guys started fighting each other. Battle Royales all over the world. In the end, your guys lost. They're hers now. Then we had phase two. They hunted down the non-supers, like your little sidekick… what impeccably sad name does he go by now? Nightwing? At least it's not as bad as "Robin". What the hell were you thinking…..?" Joker sighed. "They took Harley around the same time. They took pretty much everyone, good and bad. Catwoman, The Question, Arsenal…"

"And Oliver." Finished a voice, coming from behind Bruce. The Joker froze, eyes darting from one side to the other, then sprung up and jumped over the couch, attempting to make a break for it. Something whizzed by Bruce's face and the Joker crashed into the wall. What was odd was that he stayed there, suspended two feet above the floor, swearing angrily. An arrow had pierced just above the shoulder of his sweatshirt, leaving him both uninjured and incapacitated. Bruce stood up and turned around slowly, not quite knowing what to expect.

A young woman was leaning back against the door-frame, a bow in her hands. Bruce smiled as he saw her, instantly recognising her. "Hello Mia."

When Bruce had agreed to join the Justice League he had made just one request. No other member was to enter Gotham. Gotham was his. The reasons behind this condition were actually quite simple. For Batman to be able to work his enemies had to fear him. Gotham's underworld had to feel terror whenever it went dark. If Superman or Green Lantern went about Gotham battling crime all that would manage was to reduce the criminal's fear of Batman and transfer it onto the other superheroes. And they couldn't commit to Gotham. They wouldn't always be there.

However, every rule had an exception and in Batman's case, it was Green Arrow. Of all of those involved in the JLA, Oliver Queen reminded Bruce of himself the most. He was one of the few members of the JLA without any kind of superpowers, he lost both of his parents at an early age, inheriting their legacy and billions. They had a lot in common. Plus there was the added bonus that Bruce actually liked Oliver. Most people did, not seeing through the billionaire playboy persona that Oliver used to hide his time spent as Green Arrow. Bruce however saw right through it to the man beneath, after all, didn't he do the exact same thing. And Oliver was just like Bruce, troubled, knowing all too well the fine line between being a vigilante and a criminal and how it was all too easy to lose sight of that line.

As a result, every so often Green Arrow would come to Gotham to lend a hand. Then one day he brought "Speedy" along, stating that sometimes even heroes need someone to watch their back. Bruce came to respect Mia, she was one of the main reasons that he had decided to train Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon as his protégés. _And look how that turned out._ He thought sadly.

The girl nodded back to him. "Good to see you up and about again. We were beginning to think you'd never wake up."

The Joker coughed. "I hate to interrupt this truly beautiful reunion, but you've kinda left me hanging here." Bruce and Mia ignored him. He tugged feebly at the arrow to no avail. He then sighed and let his hands drop to his sides.

"Has J brought you up to speed?" Mia asked casually, nodding towards the Joker.

"Almost," Bruce paused. "You've been working with the Joker?"

Mia smiled. "Sadly, yes. For almost two years now, just about. It's been… a laugh…"

Joker groaned. "We've discussed this, kid. I make the jokes; you do all the manual labour. You just don't have the comic timing."

Bruce ran his hand through his hair. "How did you two meet? I'm guessing it wasn't some sort of matchmaking site."

Mia laughed. "No. Of course not."

"I resent that." Muttered a voice. It was ignored.

"After….they took Oliver," Mia began hesitantly. "I got out of Metropolis. I…. didn't know where to go….and I had been to Gotham before. Hid out in the Narrows for about three months. Kept my head down. Survived. Then J here broke into the flat I was staying in and held a knife to my throat."

Bruce shot a dirty look at the Joker, who merely shrugged it off. "How'd you get out of that?"

"Shot him in the knee with my crossbow, then kneed him in the face on the way down." Mia stated promptly. "He never saw it coming."

"Generally, things like that don't happen to me….. It was an off night…. Are you guys just going to keep ignoring me...? Hello?"

"Anyway, we've been working together for over two years now. Trying to find people to join the fight. Not that we had much luck. No one cares anymore…. So? How did J explain the last three years?"

"He made it sound like Hell."

Mia smiled, but behind her eyes pained flared. "Not far off….. We're the last ones Bruce. The last superheroes. It's taken me up to this point to realise this. We're all alone now." She walked past Bruce, grasped the arrow by its shaft and yanked it out from the wall. The Joker fell and landed heavily on the floor. He stood up, brushing dust off his sweatshirt, and then focused on the holes left by the arrow. "I liked this hoodie." He complained, then looked at the arrow in Mia's hand. He grinned wickedly.

"I see you've got a good grip on the shaft."

Mia looked down at the arrow in her left hand. "Funny." She muttered, then lashed out with her right fist. It smashed into the side of the Joker's face, sending him crashing to the floor again.

"That hurt!" he whined.

"As much as it pains me to break this up, do either of you actually have a plan? What's our next move?" Bruce asked looking from the Joker to Mia.

Joker grinned as he stood up. "Do I really look like a guy with a plan?"

Mia turned to Bruce, massaging her hand. "We don't have a plan. But I know who will."

The silence in the room grew as Mia uttered one word. One word that had kept the JLA going since its inception. One word that contained so much weight, belief, trust and hope.

"Watchtower."


	3. Chapter Three: How Heroes Fall

**(A/N) I can't believe it's taken me this long to update this story. Everything's just been crazy with exams and I found it hard to decide where to direct the story but thankfully I'm finished my exams in a few weeks, the plot for this story is entirely mapped out and updates on this story will happen much, much, much more frequently. Thanks to all the guys who reviewed, especially those who did so such a long time ago. **

**repeat16 Glad you enjoyed it! Here's the update! Things will be happening at a much more frequent rate from now on, I promise.**

**Please feel free to rate and review, tell me what you think. K, here we go!**

_The majority of characters and locations used in this work of fiction are property of DC comics. All the copyrights associated with this story belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. Lawsuits are not welcome here._

**Chapter Three: How Heroes Fall**

_The news bulletin began with a pair of rather solemn looking anchors. The words "JLA: Out of Control" filled the screen for a few seconds while the opening theme played. When the words faded the two anchors glanced at each other, with the man on the left clearing his throat. He assumed a sombre expression and began. _

"_Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, America and indeed, the entire world, tremble after a series of incidents involving the so called "_super-heroes_", the Justice League of America. Throughout every continent there have been reports of extensive damaged caused by…..well I'm not sure how I'd describe it. Possibly as large scale super powered Battle Royales. Today parts of Boston were raised to the ground, a whole city block in Philadelphia destroyed, dozens of lives lost and countless millions of property damage incurred in every major city in America. Here we have footage of the "Green Lantern" attacking the vigilante known as "The Flash" earlier today in Star City." _

_The footage ran for about thirty seconds and showed the two superheroes duking it out on a city street as bystanders screamed and ran for cover. The video was cut short when a blast from the Green Lantern's ring went awry and smashed into the café from where the video was being filmed, resulting in the roof caving in the screen to descend into darkness to a chorus of screaming. _

_The anchors, looking visibly shocked, shuffled their papers and the female anchor hesitantly began to speak. "This was one of the many incidents caught on camera these last few days. These so called "Berserker Brawls" incidents now dominate YouTube as every country shares pain over the recent, inexplicable, super-human rampages. Here is a small sample of the recent devastation."_

_The screen played through image after image of destruction and carnage as superheroes fought each other, seemingly without reason, friend turning on friend without any provocation, destroying their immediate surroundings with little thought for the innocent bystanders that were getting caught in the crossfire, and the sheer destruction that was being wrought. Hero after hero flashed on and off the screen: Zatanna, Superman, Power Girl, Wonder Woman, Impulse, Cyborg, The Martian Manhunter, Blue Beetle, Booster Gold, Black Canary and dozens more. Each and every one of them former protectors of humanity, now locked in fierce battle against each other._

_One seemingly random image was that of a blur flying at an incredible speed straight through the old clock tower, which had, for such a long time, been a dominant feature of Metropolis' skyline. As the blur sped through it, bursting through the wall, the building exploded in a huge cloud of smoke and fire, completely destroying the upper floors. The camera stayed focused on the image for some time, as the smoking debris fell on the streets below, causing passers-by to run for cover beneath parked cars, bus stations and phone boxes._

_The male reported picked up from where his colleague left off, a note of anger and frustration growing in his voice. "Today, the President has issued a statement claiming that the JLA are still answerable to the US Government and will answer for the destruction that has been committed over the past few days. He then stated that, as of yet, no action will be taken until the cause of these incidents is pinpointed and a suitable plan of action is made. However, the view of many affected by the happenings of the last few days is that the cause of these events is the fact that we, the American people, have over-relied on a vigilante organisation of people that are capable of mass destruction and, indeed, have proven that they are all too willing to use this power to the detriment of others. Through our laziness and our ability to senselessly place our trust in people that we know next to nothing about, we have brought this destruction on ourselves. Decisive action must be taken to prevent more loss of life, and if our current President in unwilling or unable to bring about peace, perhaps we should be searching for a President who can."_

Bruce stared at Mia for a long time before raising his head. "Watchtower…. She's still alive?"

Mia nodded. "She's not only alive, she's here. She's in Gotham. The only problem is that I don't know where. She's gone under deep cover. She obviously doesn't want to be found."

"How do you know this?"

"Well–" Mia began before the Joker interrupted her.

"Wait… Watchtower's a person? A woman? Why did we spend a week rummaging through that burnt out clock tower in Metropolis then?" He asked, confused, with a frown looking out of place on his normally cheerful features.

Bruce glanced at him, then turned his gaze back to Mia. "The tower's gone? That's why she left Metropolis? What happened?"

Mia sighed, running her hand through her hair. "Clark happened." She whispered. "He blew the place up; obviously he was trying to eliminate her."

"Or trying to protect her. Destroy the evidence of her actually existing."

The Joker sighed, turning from Bruce to Mia before settling dejectedly on the couch. "Why am I always left out of the loop with these guys?" he muttered mournfully.

"Because we don't trust you." Mia shot back before looking back to Bruce. "The place was trashed, I couldn't salvage anything. The only reason why I believe she's in Gotham is because this city is the only place in the world to still have a superhero. She'll be looking for you."

Bruce nodded slowly. "But even if she finds out I'm out of my coma she'll have no way of finding us. I doubt she's got anywhere near the set-up she had in the tower." He then smiled grimly. "So we'll have to find her." His eyes glinted, and Batman took over once more.

"And I know a man who'll be able to find her."


	4. Chapter Four: A Bird In Hand

**(A/N) So happy to have this chapter done! The flashbacks are all quotes from various Batman comics, including Batman: Absolution, Batgirl: Year One, Mask of the Phantasm, Gotham Knights, and the movies Batman Begins and the Dark Knight. Sorry that the last chapter was so short, hope this one is a bit more satisfactory. Hope y'all enjoy it, and, as always, any reviews or comments are much appreciated. Cheers!**

**Shaddic: I'm glad you like it! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think! **

_The majority of characters and locations used in this work of fiction are property of DC comics. All the copyrights associated with this story belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. Lawsuits are not welcome here._

**Chapter Four: A Bird In Hand**

_"Not every person is afforded the opportunity to begin anew... nor atone for one's sins and misdeeds. Time will tell if destiny can be unwritten... or the slate truly wiped clean."_

_"My fate...which I leave in the hands of strangers...old gods who still believe in old tricks. I wager my destiny on new tricks. I believe the future can be changed. I believe I can alter its outcome."_

_"Fear is a teacher, the first one you ever had."_

"_Oh, you. You just couldn't let me go, could you? This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are incorruptible, aren't you? You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won't kill you because you're just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever."_

_"You believe you can change the way of things, Batman. It is why you are who you are."_

_"Batman himself knows that he is more than just a man in a mask. He has become a legend, a symbol, a force. He has made his priorities clear to those who would aid him... and allowed them to make their own choices. And he doesn't have time to waste over wondering whether or not this is fair." _

_"Years ago, I created a mighty lie: an almost demonic creature of violence and vengeance; a night-beast whose very presence would strike fear into the criminal heart. But the lie was born to serve the greater good. The lie protected the innocent, the forsaken. The lie serves justice."_

"_Don't talk like one of them. You're not! Even if you'd like to be. To them, you're just a freak, like me! They need you right now, but when they don't, they'll cast you out, like a leper! You see, their morals, their code, it's a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be. I'll show you. When the chips are down, these... these civilized people, they'll eat each other. See, I'm not a monster. I'm just ahead of the curve."_

"_Never underestimate Gotham City. People get mugged coming home from work every day of the week. Sometimes... sometimes things just go bad."_

_"Heroes get judged by the villians they tangle with. Like Batman. What a collection of freaks he's got to deal with."_

_"You know, the thing about you heroes... There's an oblivious side to your prowess, and you're blind to it. You're so busy being big shots, you never look back and see the big fat shadows you spill behind you."_

_"Batman can't avoid the knowledge of his own personal Catch 22. He knows surrendering his crusade would put him face to face with his own neuroses... and also that prevailing will eventually wear him irrevocably down. But the question becomes whether or now he will know. When he finally loses it, will he know?"_

_"This madness ends now."_

"So this is it?" Mia asked, jerking Bruce away from his train of thought, eyeing the rundown building, indistinguishable from all the others on the street in terms of its general look of dilapidation, barring the prominent letters above the entrance spelling out ICEBRG LUNGE, the missing E and O propped up against the wall, completing the buildings claim to world's most rundown nightclub. She ran a bemused eye over it, noting several broken windows, blatantly visible scorch marks along one wall, and a heavily graffitied statue of a penguin visible from inside as the doors were wide open and unmanned.

"I mean….things have probably died in there." She stated, disgust all-too-evident in her voice.

Bruce sighed and jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the Joker who was having difficulty getting out of the car they had drove over in, the left side being so dented it took serious effort to open the door. "You've been living with this guy, and yet _this_ disgusts you?"

The Joker, having finally wrestled his way out of the car, scowled and readjusted his hoodie. "I detest that. I've been invaluable. I've held this little group of ours together."

Mia shot him a scathing look. "Bruce only came to us today. And you've been mildly helpful at best. I just haven't been able to shake you off."

The Joker scowled again and brushed past Bruce and Mia, striding into the Iceberg Lounge, muttering under his breath about ingratitude and something that Bruce didn't quite catch but sounded suspiciously like "carve up her face." Whatever the Joker's claims that his spirit was broken, and was now just a shell of his former self, Bruce still didn't trust him an inch. However, Mia seemed to, and that was….confusing. Mia had always seemed to have such a good head on her shoulders, and never made snap decisions about anything, instead viewing things objectively and analytically, just as her mentor had trained her to do.

Then again….maybe it was Bruce who wasn't judging things objectively. His past history with the Joker certainly made it difficult to view him as anything other than a psychopathic murderer. But….people could change if the catalyst was large enough. Maybe even someone as warped and insane as the Joker. The world certainly had changed in the time Bruce had been comatose.

Mia had filled in the gaps in the Joker's story. Well, it would be more truthful to say that she had completely retold it, the Joker's rambling account too difficult to translate. Just after Bruce slipped into his coma, everything, _everything, _started to go bad. Some of the strongest members of the Justice League started causing mayhem, attacking other members seemingly at random, destroying buildings and killing people for no discernible reason, leading to global panic as the world attempting to restrain its super "heroes". Then those members that had been on the receiving end of the attacks went berserk too, attacking others and the chain reaction just went on and on until the world was rapidly deteriorating into a full-scale warzone.

By the time President Obama stepped down from office, due in part to the raging mob at the doorstep to the White House and the fact that his entire party had abandoned him, many thought that the change was irredeemable, at that the end of the world was nigh.

Then, out of the blue, Harvey Dent appeared, claiming to have faked his death and to have gone to ground in order to protect himself from the Batman, stating that he had long suspected that, one day, the superheroes and vigilantes would turn on humanity, and proclaiming that he could save the world. His election to the Presidency occurred faster than many would have thought possible, and, later, there would be much debate over whether it was constitutional, but at the time few complained, as Dent immediately set out to restrain the warring superheroes.

And what was more, he actually succeeded. With financial backing from the military's new weapon contractors, Devine Industries, who had risen up overnight into commercial giants, their company producing products for almost every industry, he passed the Metahuman Registration Act. This called all on those residing in America to declare themselves and enlist in a military funded special forces unit known officially as S-18, though the nickname "The Shadows" quickly rose to prominence in the media, given the black uniform that they were required to wear, along with their silver insignia of an S, not dissimilar to Superman's motif.

And it worked. It was actually obeyed. Superheroes who had been indiscriminately attacking every living and non-living thing in their path for the last few months had strolled into Washington and signed up. Other governments quickly followed suit and a few months later, the destruction that had riddled the world only a short while before was almost a distant memory.

However, a handful of superheroes, those not involved in the violence, and all of those who did not have superpowers, including Mia and Bruce's former protégé Dick Grayson, going by the name of Nightwing, protested against this act, and made one public march against it. Only one.

The protest went over as well as could be expected, given the fact that the public had little sympathy for superheroes at that time, but thankfully finished peacefully.

The next night all hell broke loose. All of the supers that hadn't joined up into the Shadows went missing, seized by other superheroes and presumably forced into signing the MR Act. Those without powers were seized also, and reportedly placed into internment camps, until they were declared "safe to live in civilised society" once more. So far, none had been released. Mia had only escaped through luck, the fact that she was a relatively unknown JLA member, and that Oliver had been captured, trying to give her time to get away.

It hadn't been a nice story to hear.

Bruce followed the Joker into the Lounge, Mia bringing up the rear. He took in the gloomy interior and shook his head. This place had once been _the _nightclub for the criminal element of Gotham. Now…well…it was still a nightclub for the criminal element. The criminals just had much less style. And much less money. The Joker strode up to the bar, smiled hugely and opened his arms wide. "Oswald! It's been too long my friend!"

The bartender looked up, peering up through his monocle placed on his extremely long nose, and frowned. "J? I thought you were dead?"

"What? Me? Nothing can stop me my friend. You should know that by now."

Oswald sniffed amusedly. "Pity." He muttered, causing the Joker to sag. "But at least I can call in your tab. You owe me eighty dollars."

The Joker swallowed hesistantly and then beamed once more. "Hey! Let me introduce you to my friends!" he boomed, gesturing at Bruce and Mia. "This is Mia, I'm sure you remember her. And this is…..well….you know who this is."

Oswald nodded and leaned over the bar. "So you want it back, do you? Can't say I'll be sorry to get rid of it. Had a few close calls."

Bruce exchanged an inquisitive glance with Mia, who simply shrugged, when a figure what over to him, head cocked to the side.

"I know you. You're Bruce Wayne. Don't suppose you've got any cash on you, eh?" the figure muttered, drawing a knife from beneath his coat, which gleamed in the gloom of the bar, and waving it in a vaguely threatening way, though Bruce almost laughed at this display.

Bruce looked into the mutilated face of Warren White, the former financier who had embezzled billions of his clients' money, and when caught made the insanity plea and was transferred to Arkham. That didn't turn out well for him…

"Ah, the infamous Great White. I'd like to say it's a pleasure to meet you but….well….it's not." Bruce said, frankly, getting ready to intercept White's attack, when a bottle was smashed over White's head, who slumped to the ground, a surprised look on his grotesque features.

Bruce was surprised to see the Joker cradling the broken bottle in his arms, scowling defiantly. "What?" he replied to Bruce's silent question. "I never liked the guy. I may have killed people, but at least I never stole their kid's college funds."

Bruce smiled, a bit hesitantly, and turned to Oswald while avoiding Mia's eye, who was smirking smugly. The bartender sighed and gestured to two men drinking at the bar, who rose, picked up the unconscious White, and walked out of the room, returning without him moments later. "Wish you'd try not to damage my customers. Then again, you three are used to doing that, aren't you?"

Bruce leaned over the counter threateningly. "Cut the crap Penguin. I need to find someone, and I know you're only person with a chance of finding her."

The Penguin smiled nervously, leaning back, and licked his lips. "Well….it'll cost you. But if anyone can find her, I'll be able to. Who is she?"

"Her name," Bruce began, suddenly filled with doubts over how trustworthy the Penguin was, but continued on regardless. "Is Chloe Sullivan."


	5. Chapter Five: Riddle Me This

**(A/N) Sorry guys that this has taken so long to get up, I realise I'm not the most dependable of authors, but I am fully committed to finishing this story and I know exactly how it's going to turn out. I promise I'm going to work much, much harder on getting chapters out, and I thank everyone that has read this story so far and put up with my irregular bursts of inspiration. I'd just like to thank everyone as this chapter takes us past 10,000 words and 1,500 hits. Thanks to all the reviewers and please, continue to leave more. You guys are awesome! Nick out! **

_The majority of characters and locations used in this work of fiction are property of DC comics. All the copyrights associated with this story belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. Lawsuits are not welcome here._

**Chapter Five: Riddle Me This**

The Penguin led them into a room behind the bar, closing the door behind the trio, immersing them in darkness. A _click _echoed throughout the room as it was illuminated in light as a lone bulb lit up, hanging by a cord above their heads. The room was gloomy, musky and covered in dirt. A broken circular table lay on the ground in the corner of the room, presumably having been used to hold poker games in previous years. The Penguin waddled into an adjacent room, motioning for them to remain where they were. A variety of noises came from the other room as objects were moved about, opened and rummaged through. He eventually returned with a battered briefcase, and walked towards another door, ignoring Bruce's questioning look, simply motioning for Bruce to follow him.

As Bruce passed under the threshold of the door the Penguin passed the briefcase over to him, nodded and shut the door behind Bruce, resulting in a sharp _click_ as he locked the door. Bruce spun around, surprised at his isolation, his mind spinning as he contemplated Penguin's intentions.

He looked around the room, noting the decayed state of the room, identical to all the others in the club. He shrugged; perhaps he has just wanted to give him some privacy. Penguin had never been the most… dangerous of the criminals that plagued Gotham, and in the last few years, before Bruce had ended up in a coma, at least, he had almost completely given up on his criminal enterprises.

He looked down at the briefcase in his hands, shrugged once more, and carefully placed it on a nearby table, opening it with a click. Inside the case was something he hadn't thought to see again, something he couldn't believe the Penguin had got his hands on…

Five minutes later, another figure walked out of the room Bruce Wayne had been it. This person stood taller, his features hidden behind a black cowl, his eyes steely and menacing. Two ears protruded from the top of his cowl, his shoulders covered by a long black cape, his body clad in a tight fitting suit of black Kevlar, long jagged spikes jutting from the arms of his suit. Into that room Bruce Wayne had walked in, and out of it had walked the masked vigilante Batman, the dark knight of Gotham City.

Mia smiled warmly at him. "Good to have you back."

Penguin simply nodded towards him, while the Joker face broke into a wide grin. "Nice to see you again Batbrain. Been too long."

Batman just stared at them, his face impassive and unreadable until he inclined his head slightly and conceded grudgingly, "It's good to be back." He turned to the Penguin, and asked. "How did you get this?"

Oswald merely shrugged. "It was left, in the suitcase, to me by your old butler. He asked me to take care of it and paid me a fair amount of money to do so. Probably just as well, or it'd belong to that Devine group now."

Batman nodded and turned away, staring at the wall in front of him. _Alfred._ He wondered what had happened to him. Was he still out there, looking for Bruce when he discovered he had woken from his coma? Or was he dead, another victim of the Shadows? He wished he knew. If there was one thing that Batman hated, it was being in the dark….

Oswald coughed, breaking his train of thought, before gesturing to yet another door, indistinguishable from the others around the room.

"Just through here, gentlemen." He murmured, before glancing at Mia and nodding to her. "And lady."

The Joker led the way, brushing past the Penguin and chuckling as he came into the room, admiring the shelves of files fading to the dust covered décor.

"Nice place you've got here." He joked. "Maybe we shoulda asked you over to mine. We have classier cockroaches."

Oswald simply glowered. "Sometimes it's necessary to hide things behind an unappetizing exterior. People don't search through shit for diamonds."

"I hope that's not been how you've been running your smuggling operations." Bruce muttered behind him, scanning the room for the "diamonds" the Penguin had spoken of.

The Penguin snorted, walking over to a bookcase filled with dozens of dust covered tomes, running his hand along the side, searching for something. Eventually his fingers found a switch, resulting in the bookcase sliding back into the wall, revealing an opening into another room. The walls were covered in wiring and mounted LCD monitors, culminating at a point where a shadowed figure sat, hard at work.

Oswald coughed slightly, causing the figure to spin around, revealing yet another face from Batman's past. His green hat may be missing, along with the trademark cane, and his jacket, emblazoned with the infamous question mark, was draped over a couch in the far end of the room, but there was no mistaking another old nemesis of Batman's.

Edward Nigma. Otherwise known as the Riddler. Never one of Batman's greatest foes but…not someone you'd particularly trust either. Strange for him to be working for the Penguin. Gotham's criminal element rarely worked together, particularly not those who had the capacity to actually challenge Batman. Ego's would clash, personalities would turn out to be irreconcilable, normally leading to a free for all between the involved parties and led Batman straight to them.

"Nigma." Batman rasped, before glancing over at the Penguin, voicing his opinion. "Strange for the two of you to be working together?" he said, his words clearly framing a sentence.

Oswald simply shrugged. "Everything's strange these days. You do what you can to get by. Even if that means… working with…" he paused, clearly trying to find the right word. "eccentrics."

Nigma sighed, and waved a gloved hand theatrically, before spinning around to face the monitors once more. "He means crazy. Penguin here doesn't have a lot of respect for me and my…" he waved his hand once more, gesturing towards the walls hidden behind cables and monitors. "abilities. Despite the fact that they're what've been keeping this dump afloat for the last few years."

Oswald stiffened and spluttered in indignation. "I'm sorry, but I happen to recall picking you up out of a police station and giving you a job, rather than allowing you to continue to leave those stupid riddles of yours. Maybe it would have been better if I had left you to have your head ripped off by a Shadow?!"

Batman sighed and pushed the Penguin back. "So what have the pair of you been up to these last few years?"

Nigma spun back around and smiled. "Well…the Caped Crusader is finally in the dark, looking to me for answers. I'd like to say that this is a…new situation but…" he trailed off, smiling to himself, before glancing back at Batman, the smile slowly fading from his face.

"Ah…we've been working together…locating missing items. He provides the location, I provide the brains." He finished, as Oswald choked down another rage fuelled splutter.

Batman cocked his head and regarded Nigma for a moment. "These missing items…" he rasped. "Do they include people?"

Nigma stared back, his face remaining impassive. He finally raised his hand once more and gave it a little wave. "Occasionally. Why? Does the World's Greatest Detective actually need help?"

"Who has ever called me that?"

The Joker's voice piped up from the far side of the room. "That might've been me. I think I was being sarcastic though…." His voice trailed off as his words were met with four disapproving stares. He sagged and flopped down on the nearby couch. "I preferred it when it was just the three of us."

Mia sighed from the doorway. "It was only the three of us for about four hours J."

"And what a great four hours those were….." He smiled, eyes vacant in the action of apparent reminiscing.

Batman turned away from the sight and faced the Riddler once more. "I need to find someone. A woman."

Nigma raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought that's what dating websites were for? Have you tried ? I believe that's where all the cool girls are hanging out." He said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"….not like that. I need someone found. Someone who's been missing for the last three years. She'll almost certainly be going by a different name now. And she's going to be _very_ difficult to trace. She might be even more skilled with computers than you, Nigma. There's a very good chance that no one would be able to find her."

Nigma sat back in his chair and clasped his hands together. "If she exists, I can find her." He cooly stated, tilting his head as though considering whether or not this case benefitted his attention. "I'll do it. What was her name?"

"Chloe Sullivan, lived in Smallville and later, Metropolis."

"So…. A colleague of Superman?"

"What makes you think that?"

The Riddler snorted. "Come on, she's important enough that you want to find her, resourceful enough for you to believe she's still out there and skilled enough that you think I mightn't be able to find her. And finally, she lived in Metropolis. I'm sorry; you don't have to be a genius to work that out."

He stretched out his arms, and cracked his knuckles in a calm, professional way. "So…" he murmured. "Tell me everything you know about her background. Maybe I will be able to find this elusive…Chloe… Let's see if she really is better than _me_." He finished, his voice delicately picking through that last sentence in an attempt to disguise his distaste.

He spun around to his array of screens and his fingers began to flurry over the keyboard as images flew across the screens. Mia and Oswald joined the Joker on the battered couch but Batman remained where he stood, unmoving from his position just behind the furiously typing Riddler, staring over his shoulder into the monitors, his eyes not missing a single face, a single scrap of information as they flew through reams and reams of sites. He stood for several hours, until it was just Nigma and Batman left in the room, Oswald having left to man what was left of his nightclub, Joker and Mia having gone to get food.

After hours of searching, and following leads throughout cyberspace, the Riddler eventually came across and image, and leant back, looking up at Batman with a questioning look in his eyes, clearly asking "Is this her?".

Batman leant forwards, searching the image for a sign of the woman who had essentially united the Justice League. Who had been key to its foundation and undoubtedly would be able to throw light on its fall. Her hair might be brown instead of blonde, her stance changed, her eyes a different colour and her name changed, but he had no doubt that this was, indeed, the woman he was looking for.

He glanced back at the Riddler and nodded. "This is her. I'm sure of it."

He turned back to the monitor and stared back at the image, noting the name at the bottom of the article.

_Vicki Vale._


	6. Chapter Six: Who Watches The Watchtower

**(A/N) Hey guys it's me again. Got another chapter up and we finally get to see Chloe Sullivan, of Smallville, who has since taken up the persona of the Gotham Gazette reporter Vicki Vale. I really hope your all enjoying this story so far, and I know you'll love the plans I have for this! This is the fanfiction I'm pouring most of my time into, but I'm also quite busy working on my two Harry Potter fics, and the Hunger Games collaboration Bring Them To Their Knees. Check them out! Also guys, not to sound like a broken record, but there's a box underneath this entitled review. It would mean so much if you did so. Nick out!**

**Review Replies:**

**Stella Limegood: Thanks for the review. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Oracle56: Thanks man! I love the Riddler and have plans for him. He's going to play a very, very large role in this fanfic. **

**Repeat 16: I'm glad you liked that. Warren White will only be a minor character, but the Penguin's also going to have quite a large role here. And they're not the only villains that you'll see. In the next two chapters, we'll have the final two villians added to our misfit team of heroes and villians…. **

_The majority of characters and locations used in this work of fiction are property of DC comics. All the copyrights associated with this story belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. Lawsuits are not welcome here._

**Chapter Six: Who Watches The Watchtower**

_Three years ago, Chloe Sullivan had run the world's most well-known group of heroes the world have ever seen. Under the name of Watchtower she had overseen the Justice League of America's reputation and trust increase not only in the US, but all across the world. Superhumans, aliens and unpowered heroes who made up for their lack of abilities with sheer determination and dedication to their causes. As a unit, they had worked to make the world a better place, free from corruption, crime, murder, theft and all such vices that plagued the human race. And they had made leaps and bounds towards that goal, until, three years ago, hero turned against hero and Watchtower…watched, as the organization she had helped to found suddenly tore itself apart, until all that was left were ashes and dust. She had failed them. She had failed all of them…_

"You staying late Vicki?"

Vicki Vale glanced up from her paper-covered desk into the smiling face of her colleague, Alexander Knox. She sighed and gestured to the piles of paperwork which threatened to completely restrict her ability to see the computer monitor that was entombed by paper.

"Sorry Knox, but this is going to take a while. This Wayne story is the biggest piece of news we've had for months."

Knox nodded. "Yeah crazy huh? In a coma for three years, then all of a sudden he goes missing? It's a crazy world we live in, no matter what those ass-hats up in DC would have you believe."

"Don't say that." Vicki quickly reprimanded. "Crime statistics have shot down ever since the Metahuman Registration Act was implemented."

"Fine, I'm not saying the MR Act wasn't a step in the right direction, but the Shadows? You can't honestly believe that all those superheroes just…accepted the change like…that?" he said, clicking his fingers to demonstrate his point. "The whole thing reeks Vicki, from Dent's election onwards. We had four witnesses saying the Batman killed him. Even after that psycho Bane exposed how he had really died, the fact was still there. Dent. Was. Dead."

"You shouldn't just throw that stuff around Knox." She cautioned. "The S-18 have been the main reason for the crime drop. And Dent took the presidency in a democratic election. Even his opposition had no complaints about the results. People fake their deaths every day."

"Alright then, how about the fact that his murder spree went unpunished? The judge was forced to throw the case out after a bizarre mix of tampered evidence, conflicting testimonies, and witnesses that just _disappeared. _And yet, this barely affected his campaign!"

Vicki simply shrugged. "I don't know Knox, but it'd be smart to keep those opinions to yourself. You know how harsh the government can come down on slander. Dent is our President, the S-18 keep crime down at microscopic levels and people can finally live free from fear of crime. It's a new world."

Knox snorted and began to walk towards the door. "Free from fear? Then why are people afraid to say what they think? We're reporters, for one of the biggest newspapers in America, and nothing that we've written in the last three years have been anything near "news". We just publish the same crap we recycle from government announcements each day. We're more oppressed than ever, and what's worse, there's no heroes left to save us. We're on our own."

He paused by the doorframe and spoke so quietly that Vicki could barely hear him. "God help us all."

Vicki turned around in her chair just as the door closed behind him. She paused to contemplate on his words. No heroes left?

_If only he knew._

She had never met Bruce Wayne in person, or Batman, but, back in the days when she was known only as Chloe Sullivan, briefly Chloe Olsen and Chloe Queen, or Watchtower, she had conversed with him over the JLA's communication system. He had been refreshingly…human. Dark, controlled and his methods could occasionally be brutal, but Chloe had found that she had more in common with the Dark Knight of Gotham than possibly any other member of the JLA, even Clark and Oliver. He believed in his cause, with all his heart, and had never once wavered from it, despite the losses he was dealt along the way. Batman had been the cornerstone of the JLA, though one that had never really been appreciated until he was gone.

_And now he was missing._

Vicki sighed, sagging into her swivel chair. Where was he now? Every lead she had tracked down had turned up a dead end. Every informant had nothing to say, every place she could think of that he might be hiding in had drawn up blanks.

_Where are you Bruce?_

She turned back to her desk and started shuffling through her paperwork, glancing through reams and reams of words in the vain hope that something would stand out and give her some sort of a lead. After hours of reading, it was nearing one when Vicki eventually lost all hope of discovering anything, for tonight at least. She sighed wearily and pushed the now diminished pile to the far side of the desk, leaning back into her chair, her eyes closed, her brow furrowed in frustration.

Ten minutes later she walked out of the offices of the _Gotham Gazette_, clad in an overcoat, with an umbrella in her hand in preparation for the rain that loomed above Gotham. She hurried down the steps leading up to the building, and quickly made her way through the streets in an attempt to beat the threatening weather. She glanced at her watch, sighing as she had missed her bus, paused to consider her options before heading off the streets, into a dark alley that would cut a considerable amount of time off her commute, though often filled her with a mild sense of unease as she made her way down it.

Today, however, she was being followed. It was something she had picked up on the moment she had left her office. Someone, or something, had been stalking her ever since. This alley would be the perfect place to confront them. Out of the way, rarely used, and poorly lit, whoever her mysterious follower was, they would think they had the upper hand, and would no doubt use this opportunity to pounce.

And would play right into Vicki's hands.

She reached into her handbag and felt the reassuring weight of her .45 Glock fit snugly into her hand. She continued walking for a few more seconds before spinning around, withdrawing her hand from her handbag, holding the Glock.

"Stay right where you are, asshole." She said, nodding slowly as the figure froze in place. "Ok then, now, put your hands up in the air and walk forward, slowly!"

The figure slowly raised his hands and walked forward, emerging from the shadows which had hidden it and moved into the small pool of light cast by a nearby lamp post. Vicki sighed in relief as the figure's face was revealed. The facial scarring, the wild eyes, the untamed hair and the erratic, jerky method of walking made the man instantly recognisable to Vicki. She had as good as run the Justice League for years, and as part of her job had researched into every major opponent they had come across.

Of course, Batman had quite a unique Rogue's Gallery, as the majority of his opponents had no superpowers to speak of, like him, but yet managed to cause possibly even more trouble than any of the others. And most of them were insane. That was another important consideration. And this one took insane to a whole new level…

But even the Clown Prince of Crime was nothing next to what she had been dreading: the face of a former friend, here to finally finish off the job that Clark had begun three years ago. Here to kill her. Anything else could only be relieving when compared to that.

"The Joker." She stated calmly. "What do _you_ want?"

The man only grinned and shook his head, laughing a little as he did so. "Oh dear… It's not _me_ that wants to talk to you, it's them." He said, motioning behind her with one hand.

Vicki spun around to see two figures that she had not expected to ever see again, and gasped in shock. "I don't understand…" she murmured, dropping the gun to her side. Her expression softened, and a tear collected in her left eye, before her face took on a harder look once more.

"How the fuck did you find me?!" She yelled, waving the gun in the air. "I made sure I wouldn't be traceable."

When her cries had finished echoing throughout the alley a silence fell upon the group, until the Joker sidled past her and walked up to Batman and Speedy. "I guess…" he murmured, shrugging his shoulders slowly. "It means that we have people better than you at…that sort of thing. And believe me, if our people are better, then I can guarantee…other people also have better people."

Mia spoke up, redirecting Vicki's gaze from the Joker onto her. "J's right Chloe. For all we know they could be watching us right now."

"First of all, my name's _Vicki_. Secondly, J? Really?"

In the shadows, Batman chuckled to himself. "That's what I said."

"Oh? So you're ok with this? Working with psychopathic mass murderers?"

"No, to tell you the truth. I'm not ok with it. But I have no other choice. Wasn't it you that said "Every Frankenstein has a human heart."?"

Vicki glowered, not happy with words from her past life being used against her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Batman wasn't done, and interrupted her.

"And what does Vicki Vale, a reporter with the _Gotham Gazette_, care about the associates of a masked vigilante. That _is _news isn't it? Isn't that all she cares about?"

Vicki grounded her teeth. "I always give everything to my job, if that's what you're referring to. But I'm a reporter now. I've moved on."

Batman just stared at her, until she was forced to break her gaze and look away. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "But your job's not done yet. You can't turn your back on us. We need you…Chloe."

Vicki just stared at them, shaking her head slowly, staring at her two old friends and the monster she despised. "Ok." She muttered, broken, staring at her feet for a minute before Chloe Sullivan raised her head, and with a cheeky smile continued. "After all…I'm sort of in the business of helping superheroes."

The Joker clapped sarcastically, but was pushed aside by a speeding Mia who grabbed Chloe in a bear hug. "It's good to have you back Chloe." She whispered into her ear. Chloe smiled, and glanced over at Batman, who seemed to be as stoically impassive as ever, but unless her eyes deceived her his mouth was set in the slightest of smirks.

She rolled her eyes at him, and parted from Mia, before glancing back to where he had been standing, only to find him missing. "Where's Knight gone?" she asked but Mia and the Joker simply shrugged and began to walk back down the alley in the direction she had come from.

Above their heads, perched precariously on a fire escape, Batman raised his left hand and placed it against his temple, quietly murmuring. "Oswald? She's coming with us. You can drive round now. Bring them home."

He looked around, before moving so quickly the eye could barely follow, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, tracking the small white van with the painted penguin on its side as it wound its way through the city after picking up its passengers, past hundreds of cars filled with people carrying on with their normal, humdrum lives, unaware of those travelling by only feet away from them as they passed them by, before finally coming to a rest outside the Iceberg Lounge.

He paused for a moment on an adjacent rooftop, leaning against the platform for a mounted satellite, taking the moment to look at the city, at _his _city, and nodded slowly to himself. He had his allies, he had his suit and more importantly, he now had a plan.

_It was good to be back._


	7. Chapter Seven: The Only Thing To Fear

**(A/N) Hey guys! I know it's been too long since my last update, and I'm very sorry about that. College and life have just been hectic lately, and have been conspiring together to make it as difficult as possible for me to get time to write. I promise you all that I'm fully committed to seeing this story through, and I do have a plan for the storyline. I'd also like to thank everyone who's been kind enough to review, and I'd like to apologise for not including personal thanks to each review in this chapter, it's just that it's getting late and I'm trying to get this chapter up tonight. I promise that, next chapter, I'll have returned to thanking each person for their review individually. The beginning of this chapter is a reference to an internet series I'm partial to, and the first person who can name it will receive an invisible cookie, my personal gratitude, and hell, I'll let them preview the next chapter a day or two before it comes out and I'll let them name it. Anyone up for it? **

**Chapter Seven: The Only Thing To Fear**

"_He calls himself "Scarecrow." Psychologist turned psychopath. He preys on the innocent and instils them with fear. When I chose to wear my... costume, it was to prey upon the criminals, and instil them with fear. The irony is not lost on me..." – Batman._

The mist curled around the huge, intimidating walls of Arkham Asylum, making it impossible for the few dozen guards on patrol duty to see more than a few feet in front of them. Two guards stood stoically by the two giant iron gates at the entrance to the facility, highly lethal looking MP5's by their sides, their breath coming out as a pale fog, soon lost in the mist of the night. Winter had begun to set in unnaturally early. October hadn't even ended and already snow and ice were starting to creep into Gotham City, and it was no better on Arkham Island.

One of the guards by the gate shifted, slinging the MP5 over his shoulder, and pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear. He took a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it open, casually lighting the cigarette before shaking the flame out and putting it back into his pocket. He took a few drags, before shaking his head and swearing softly to himself.

"Christ is it cold or what?" he muttered, taking another drag on his cigarette.

His partner only nodded and grunted, somewhat half-heartedly. "Uh huh."

His attempts at stalling a conversation went unnoticed, and to his despair the other guard just waved his free hand in a rather dramatic way at the mist that surrounded them. "How cold do you think it is? It has to be at least below freezing, right?"

His partner, who was known as Murphy, sighed, before pointedly looking around. "Well, there's ice. So, yeah. Freezing."

Once again, the guard, Scully, holding the cigarette disregarded his partner's comments and continued, in a slightly aggrieved tone of voice. "Patrolling in the ice. Give me a fucking break. You know who doesn't have to patrol in the middle of the night, in the ice?"

Murphy sighed once more, shaking his head. "I'm sure you'll tell me."

"Jenkins. I bet Jenkins is sleeping right now. Back in his rack, with his big fucking melonhead on a soft pillow."

His partner, acknowledged the probability of his last statement. "Yeah, that's Jenkins."

Scully nodded ferociously, glad that his partner was finally agreeing with him, and continued, hoping to take advantage of the moment and bond over their disdain of the despicable Jenkins. "You know I had terminal duty eight weeks straight? Eight weeks man!"

Murphy sighed even louder this time, giving up all attempts at subtlety, finally realising that he would have to be more direct if he wanted to regain the silence that had passed between them only a short while before. "Well lucky you." He remarked, the tone of sarcasm unmistakable in his voice.

Anyone with an ounce of sense would have shut up by this point, but sadly, this guard was severely lacking in that department. "And then I make one fucking comment about the CO to Jenkins." He continued, moaning without noticing his companion's constant eye rolling.

Murphy paused, noticing something in the mist, and began to walk forward, soon fading into nothing. "Uh huh that's great." He murmured as he left, his curiosity aroused.

Scully continued his rant, assuming Murphy had just gone to take a leak. It wasn't strictly following protocol, but screw it, they were here freezing their asses off five days a week, for a pretty lousy paycheck and an even worse healthcare plan. "And the next thing you know I'm out on patrol. And then Jenkins gets my next terminal duty. And I get to freeze my ass off out here with..."

He paused; convinced he had heard a shout coming from the mist. He flicked the cigarette away and raised his MP5. He walked forward into the mist, raising his voice as he continued. "Murphy? Come on Murphy. Hey where are ya? Murph! Stop messing around Murph. Murph?"

He sagged in relief as Murphy's voice rang out through the mist. "Yeah in here… Thought I heard something…"

Scully chuckled as he walked towards the voice, sarcastically remarking. "Oh yeah? Whatcha hear? A Ghost?"

He paused as he noticed a hazy blur crumpled on the ground a few feet away from him. Scully raised his gun once more as he cautiously took a few steps forward, until the body was clear for him to see.

It was Murphy.

He had no time to react before his head was placed in a vicelike grip by someone who had come from behind him; a cloth was then clamped onto his face. "Something like that." A voice hissed into his ear.

Scully tried not to breathe, not to take in the nauseous vapours coming off of it, but eventually he was forced to give in, and he surrendered to the darkness, collapsing to the ground as his attacker let go of him, his face hideously transfigured into a contorted grimace.

The Joker stood back; pushing his newly died green hair back, a grin plastered across his white face, his smile once again highlighted with bright red lipstick.

_It was good to be back._

A voice echoed through his head, out of the earpiece in his left ear, causing him to scowl, his moment of happiness forgotten.

"I hope those men are alive." The Dark Knight drily remarked, a touch of reprimand in his voice.

The Joker sighed. "They're just unconscious, sleeping. I'm sticking to the plan, don't you worry."

His fun spoiled, he continued up to the gates. He glanced up at the two security cameras on either side, then dismissed them. If the Bat's new friend and Nigma hadn't disabled them by this stage there wasn't exactly much point in aborting the plan at this stage. The Shadows would be on their way. Other men would have felt concerned about this, but worrying over things he had no control over hadn't ever been the Joker's style. And he had lived this long. It was more than a lot of Gotham's old criminals could say.

He lifted up the iron bar keeping the gates shut, and pushed them open, waiting for Cobblepot to drive the van through. After a minute or so a pair of headlights glared through the mist, and the Joker stood aside as the van drove through the iron gates.

"I'm in." wheezed the voice of The Penguin, lighting a cigar. He looked around for a moment before finding the switch to lower his window, and puffed away happily, his work done for the moment.

A few feet away, the Joker regarded the smoke emitting from the van's now open window with disdain, and shook his head. "Some people have it easy." He muttered to himself, striding through the courtyard of the asylum, making his way towards a side entrance into the facility. Joker wasn't surprised to see it unguarded as he walked up to it, although this was certainly not a natural occurrence in the asylum. After all, Bats and Speedy had been here for the past half-hour. He'd be surprised if any guards where still conscious on the entire island.

As he began to make his way towards the side entrance, he began to chuckle as he reflected on the conversation that he'd had with Cobblepot the night before.

"_Ok, here's the plan." He had begun, maintaining a tone of sincerity and an expression of what he imagined was similar to devout holiness, staring directly into the Penguin's face._

"_Obviously, we can't risk any of us getting caught on this mission, and giving up the rest of us, so…" He paused momentarily, trying to gather his thoughts. He then nodded, satisfied, and began to speak up once more. "So here's what I want you to do. If you get caught, and when I say if, I mean when, I want you to take this…" And he opened his hand, revealing a small, white, cylindrical pill lying on the palm of his hand. "And I want you to bite it as hard as you can."_

_Cobblepot only stared at him in confusion. "But what is it?" he asked, his eyes wide in puzzlement, resulting in the Joker refraining from the urge to slap him._

"_It's cyanide." He explained calmly, grinning as Cobblepot's face paled, his eyes darting around the room as he looked for some method of escape._

"_You can't be serious!" The Penguin spluttered, backing away slowly._

"_Oh but I most certainly am." The Joker intoned, his face a picture of seriousness. He leaned forward, and suddenly paused, looking confused. He stared at the pill in his palm, delicately picked it up with his other hand, sniffed it suspiciously and, quick as a flash, popped it into his mouth._

_Oswald gasped in shock, almost collapsing, needing to sit down on a nearby chair, his eyes transfixed on the Joker, who was chewing carefully, a look of intense concentration on his face._

"_Hmm." The Joker remarked slowly. "That one may have been a tictac."_

Priceless.

He pushed the door open, striding into the asylum with a sense of pride. It felt slightly odd, returning to the asylum of his own will. His normal trips here usually began with Batman having a firm grip on his collar, or else surrounded by a SWAT team in the back of an armoured truck. This was definitely a new sensation.

He made his way towards the High Risk wing. The memories were all coming back to him now; here was bathroom where he had hid in after stabbing three guards and a nurse, cackling as they searched up and down the asylum for him. There the locker that he had smashed Harley's head into, on the first day that they had met. Here was the window he had been thrown through after he had gotten on the wrong side of Croc, and the man had knocked out six security guards trying to get his hands on him again.

_It was good to be home._

He turned a corner and was surprised to come face to face with a very conscious, very shocked looking security guard. The guard stood there for a second, his mouth open, eyes wide in surprise, before regaining control and reaching for his sidearm. The second was all the time that the Joker needed, who immediately slipped his hand into the left front pocket of his purple suit, then pulled his hand out, now clad in a shiny set of brass knuckles, and slammed his fist into the jaw of the hapless guard, knocking him onto the ground, immediately unconscious.

He winced and slipped the brass knuckles into his pocket, shaking his hand until the pain subsided. "If you want something done you've just gotta do it yourself." He muttered grimly, shaking his head slowly.

Seven very unconscious guards lay prone on the ground outside the entrance to the High Risk ward. Joker tutted to himself as he picked his way over the bodies, pausing to kick one vaguely familiar looking guard in the stomach. Looks like Batsy and Speedy had forgotten to tidy up after they'd had their fun, he noted, smiling widely.

He pushed the door open, to reveal Mia glaring at him, leaning against the wall opposite the entrance, her right eyebrow raised, giving off a very unimpressed vibe.

"About time." She said, shaking her head. "Was beginning to think you had gotten lost."

The Joker only snorted, amused. As if he could get lost here, where he had pretty much lived on and off for ten or so years, up until Batman's disappearance. "A little mouse slipped by you. I had to deal with it."

Mia stared at him. "I hope it's still alive?" She asked, a note of concern in her voice.

Joker paused, waving his hands about theatrically. "Well…" he began. "It's not…not alive. I imagine it'll be very sore when it wakes up. It's just sleeping at the moment."

"Good." A voice rasped behind him. Joker didn't turn around. He wouldn't give the Bat the satisfaction. He wasn't one of those mindless idiots who'd spin around, a shocked look on their face, gasping in terror as he stared into the face of the Bat. He wasn't one of those mindless idiots.

He was much more than that.

_How does he sneak up on people like that? He thought glumly. He must have special sneaking boots. I could really use a pair of those. Would make sneaking up on people so much easier._

"Nice of you to show up." He remarked drily, still with his back to the Batman. "Was beginning to think we would have to start this show without you."

He grinned as Batman pushed past him, satisfied in his role as the comic relief of the group, a role he could finally revel in. He chuckled as they strode down the eerily silent, empty halls of the High Risk ward, past the dozens of empty cells, and it seemed to the Joker that they were the only living things down there, other than the rats and cockroaches that no doubt infested the place. Arkham had clearly gone to the dogs since the Joker had last been here, but he guessed there wasn't much call to fund an empty ward in an old asylum.

Well, an almost empty ward.

Two patients still called the asylum home.

The first Joker wasn't particularly worried about. He was unpredictable and insane, but rational enough to crave freedom. Add to that the fact that he had relied on Batman for his own sense of identity almost as much as the Joker had…well, the Joker wasn't worried about the first inmate. He'd join them without too much protest.

The second one on the other hand…well she was a whole different kettle of fish. She had always been unpredictable, rash and spontaneously violent. She'd be much more difficult to persuade to leave the asylum with them. Hell, she mightn't even want to leave. And they _needed_ her.

What made it even worse was the fact that she was quite possibly _the_ most dangerous of Batman's old Rogue's Gallery. The Joker, with all his schemes and his penchant at causing chaos, could not claim to best her. If she had ever _truly _wanted to destroy Gotham, she could have, at any time. And it wouldn't have even taken much effort.

You couldn't imprison someone like her. If she was still in this asylum, it was only because she wanted to be here. And that would make it much more difficult for them, given that they want to convince her to break out.

In front of him, Batman stopped suddenly, no doubt receiving instructions from that reporter chick or maybe even Nigma. He turned to make sure that the Joker and Speedy had caught up with him, turned to the door next to him, and appeared to pause, perhaps even showing the slightest hint of…fear? But that was impossible, surely? The Batman didn't fear anyone. He then took a step back, and smashed his shoulder into the door, snapping it off its hinges, and burst into the room.

A tired, pale looking man was lying down on the cot in the corner of the room, clad in an orange jumpsuit. After glancing up at the intruders he took his glasses off the small desk next to his bed and put them on, sitting up and ran a hand through his wiry black hair with a yawn.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked, looking pointedly at the damaged door, now lying on the floor next to his cot. He glanced back up towards the group, his eyes widening slightly as they settled on the Joker, and he whistled slowly. "Well what's going on here? When did the Bat and the Clown team up. This isn't quite the dynamic duo I had pictured."

Batman stood up straight, ignoring the inmate's question. Instead, he simply glared at him, and growled. "Jonathan Crane, you're coming with us."

Crane had once been a leading psychologist, and ironically had once run Arkham, using it as a front while he conducted studies on fear in the human mind. He eventually was contacted by a group of international assassins known as the League of Shadows, who were interested in his work, and was tasked with smuggling a weaponized hallucinogenic into Gotham. He used this hallucinogenic to terrorize the patients of his asylum, and manipulated the Falcone crime family into smuggling in the drugs into the city, then spiked the water supply with them, pouring the drugs into the water mains which ran directly under his asylum.

What happened after was known internationally as Gotham's "_Night of Terror_" and the city was almost torn apart. Eventually Crane was captured by Batman, and thrown into Arkham. After the Dent act was passed, and the only person deemed insane enough to inhabit the asylum was the Joker, Crane was moved to Blackgate prison. After a mass breakout he helped the criminals to take control of the city, and he headed so called "civilian courts", punishing enemies of the new regime.

As always, Batman put a stop to this, and Crane was thrown back into Arkham Asylum.

Crane just smiled, leaning back against the headboard of his cot. "Why on earth would I want to go _anywhere_ with you? You're the reason I'm in this hellhole in the first place!"

The Joker pushed his way past Batman, reaching into his inside pocket, pulling out something resembling a piece of old sacking. "Because you want your freedom. You want to be the man you once where, not this scrawny, pathetic version. You'll come with us, _Scarecrow_. The outside world's just too much fun." He murmured, holding up the sacking for Crane to get a good look. He smiled as Crane focused on the mask, his mouth open in shock, his eyes wide open, his hand acting of its own will, reaching for the mask.

Joker tossed it to him, grinning widely. "Time to play."

"Is this wise?" Mia murmured to Batman, as Crane pulled on the mask, becoming the Scarecrow once more. Batman remained silent, and the only answer she received was in her head, as Chloe sighed and said: "Probably not Mia. But it's the only option we have. We need all the help we can get. And if the Joker's right and this…telepath has a problem maintaining control over people with mental health issues...well, the crazier they are the better."

Batman grunted, turning away, not waiting to see if the others were following him. The Joker smiled, nodding to Mia as he followed him. He could feel the Scarecrow breathing down his neck, and shrugged off his sudden sense of unease. The easy part was done, and they were now a man up. Crazy as the Scarecrow may be, he wasn't one to miss out on something. And the task they had ahead of them was definitely something.

A _big_ something.

But first, they needed to free the other inmate. That would be the easy part, sadly. The hard part would be getting out of there alive.

Poison Ivy was _not_ going to be happy to see them.


	8. Chapter Eight: Ending Eden

**(A/N) Hey guys! Wow it's been a crazy few months since my last update, and I would like to apologise to all of you for the long, long, long delay in between chapters. I am one-hundred per cent dedicated to this fanfic, and have everything plotted out and planned, although sadly, not written. I am the kind of person whose head is filled with so many ideas that they continually branch out into new projects, often to the detriment of their older ones, but I promise that this puts an end to that! I can't promise a steady stream of updates, but I can guarantee that they will be more consistent and prompt in the future, and there's going to be a bit of an increase in length too, judging by my plans. This chapter serves mainly as filler, but the actions going to get **_**very **_**intense soon, so keep track of this 'fic if you're interested!**

**I would like to thank everyone who has stuck with me, and all the readers who have been pivotal in taking this little fanfic to over 4,000 views! It really means a lot to me.**

**Please feel free to take a look at any of my other 'fics, or the two collaborations that I'm currently a part of: Bring Them to Their Knees, a Hunger Games fanfic, and Phase One: Genesis, a Red vs Blue fanfic.**

**Once again, thanks to all my reviewers, and to everyone who has supported or inspired me while I was writing this chapter, and the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy this update as much as I did writing it!**

__The majority of characters and locations used in this work of fiction are property of DC comics. All the copyrights associated with this story belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. Lawsuits are not welcome here.__

**Chapter Eight – Ending Eden**

"_You haven't destroyed my creation, Batman. You've only scratched the bark. You'll never reach the roots. Nature's like a hydra, Batman; you chop off one branch and ten grow to take its place! You may cut down a tree, but you'll never find your way out of the forest! Rise, my beauty! Our enemy still stands!" – Poison Ivy_

"Watchtower, can you locate Pamela Isley's cell?" Batman rasped through his mike, striding away from the rest of the group. He could feel a sense of urgency behind his actions now, and a growing sense of dread that had never troubled him after putting on the cowl and cape before.

They were taking too long. By now someone would have certainly noticed that something was not quite right in Arkham Asylum, and he didn't want to be around when the Shadows came calling, not from what he had heard about their usual methods of operation. It pained him, though, to know that the organisation that he had helped found and run had been wrapped around the finger of a power hungry telepath. Worse, it _tormented_ him.

Chloe's voice suddenly was suddenly emitted from his earpiece, her voice laden with concern. "Number 68012, about two hundred metres to your right. Guys, you have about ten minutes to find Ivy and get her out of there, because someone out there has worked out that not everything is peachy on Arkham, and I can't guarantee any more than that."

The Dark Knight nodded, increasing his pace, moving towards the location Chloe had just given them. 68000…68004…68008…_There_! He pulled up outside the door, took a step back, and slammed his shoulder into the door, throwing all of his weight behind the movement. The door's hinges groaned and buckled under the hit, but he was forced to slam into it again in order to knock it completely off its hinges, revealing the room behind it, or rather the lack of a room.

Instead of the standard inmate cell (a barred window, a cot, some utilities that mankind require, particularly when locked up in a small enclosed space for an indefinite amount of time) the door to Isley's cell gave way to reveal a huge room dominated by plant-life, stretching towards the glass ceiling.

Batman stared out into the jungle for a moment, scowling in irritation. "They gave her a garden?!" he snorted, incredulously, not quite able to believe his eyes. Chloe quickly answered his rhetorical question, passing on the information that either she of Nygma had just unearthed.

"Two years ago the Warden of Arkham, a Dr Hugo Strange, ordered the former cafeteria to be turned into an indoor conservatory, assigning Isley as its caretaker. Since then, Isley hasn't even attempted to break out, something to note given that no other warden had managed to keep her incarcerated for more than four months, and that record had been set during the winter, when her abilities are at the weakest."

The Dark Knight shook his head wearily, wondering what else he had missed out on over the last few years. "So we've got to go in _there_ and get her out?" he murmured, sighing internally, not quite ready for a suicide mission just yet.

However, once he had uttered those words the jungle in front of him began to tremble and shake for a moment, before suddenly parting to reveal the form of Dr Pamela Isley, better known as the eco-terrorist Poison Ivy, one of the Batman's most troublesome foes over the last decade. She strode up to him, smiling widely, her pale skin tinged green by the chlorophyll that flowed through her veins, covered only in the shirt the asylum had given her and some carefully placed foliage.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" she murmured as she strode towards him, her head cocked to one side. "Is this really the scourge of the Gotham underworld that I see before me?"

He stiffened, eyes locked on Ivy's, as she approached, his mouth set in a grim scowl. "There's only one Batman, Pamela," he replied as she pulled up only a few feet away from him, his eyes narrowed. "I'm here to take you away from here."

Ivy laughed, a beautiful, musical sound that echoed throughout the garden, and shook her head slowly, her smile widening. "Why would I want to leave? I know what the world has become, Batman, while you hid yourself away from the world. Here, in my garden, I have found peace. What on earth would make me want to give that up?"

Batman smiled suddenly, a dark, ghostly, fleeting smile that filled Ivy with a sudden sense of apprehension. "Who said I was giving you a choice?"

Ivy had less than a second to frown before something moved behind the Batman and a flash of red glinted over his shoulder. She wheezed as something smashed into her chest, red electricity sparking through its frame, knocking the air out of her lungs and rendering her unconscious immediately.

Speedy pushed past the Batman to retrieve her arrow, her red and gold suit contrasting strongly against the green theme of the garden that stretched out in front of them, and pretended to ignore the look he gave her as he scooped Isley's prone form into his arms.

"Was starting to wonder whether or not you had fallen behind," he murmured drily, walking past her, out of the Isley's conservatory. By the frame of the door both the Joker and Crane were standing, the former with a look of astonishment and dread on his face, the features of the latter hidden behind his mask.

"She's _not _going to be happy when she wakes up," the Joker murmured, licking her lips nervously, his eyes darting back and forth from Batman's impassive features to the unconscious super-villain in his arms.

He was ignored, Batman instead choosing to walk past him, making for the exit with considerable pace. Speedy strode alongside him, her eyes continually searching the surrounding area for anything out of the ordinary, the two former Arkham inmates following behind as they navigated their way through the winding corridors of the asylum.

"Penguin, start up the van," Batman ordered as they approached the exit to the asylum's main building, kicking the main doors open as he reached them. The van whirred into life, and Speedy sprang forward to open the rear doors, taking Isley from Batman and placing her on the stretcher in the back of the van. Crane was unceremoniously shoved inside with the two of them, while the Joker sprang into the passenger seat, giving Oswald a jaunty nod as he did so.

Batman glanced at the watch built into the wrist of his suit, nodding to Mia as he shut the van's rear doors. "You have approximately twenty three minutes before Isley wakes up," he rasped, staring intently at Mia. "Make sure you get her to Watchtower before then."

Suddenly another voice exploded across their feed, causing both to wince in irritation. "What? Do I get no mention? Watchtower steals the show here, while no one cares about the contributions of the incredible Edward E. Nygma? Riddle me this: who hacked Arkham's network for you?! Who discovered where Crane and Isley where holed up?! Who's been monitoring air traffic in the Gotham area for the past hour?!"

Batman raised his hand to his cowl, frustrated. "Get a grip Nygma. This isn't a competition. We have a job to do. Get to work on the city's traffic grid. Light the way green," as an afterthought he added, "Keep an eye on the skies though. Alert me if anything starts moving up there."

As he reached for the other door Mia's hand shot forward, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Are you not coming with us?" she asked, confused, her voice tinged with a note of concern.

Batman shook her hand free, shaking his head slowly. "There's something I have to see first," he murmured, slamming the door shut on Mia's worried features. The van took off, the Joker leaning out the side window to wave enthusiastically at his former enemy as the van retreated into the distance. The Dark Knight stood there for a moment before shaking his head slowly, raising his hand to his cowl to mute the notes of protest being voiced by Chloe and Nygma, objecting to his sudden abandonment of the plan.

This was just something that he had to do.

Fifteen minutes later to figures landed on the courtyard outside of the asylum, clad in black. They quickly discovered the guards that had been knocked out during the raid, but exchanged no words or looks with each other, just continuing on their way into the asylum without a second glance back at the laid out guards. The two figures explored the asylum slowly but thoroughly, appearing to take note of the injuries of every guard they came across. After about half an hour they came across another group of guards, but were surprised when one of them stirred, opening his eyes and paling as he realised who his discoverers were.

He got to his knees, hands held out in front of him, clasped in supplication, begging the figures for mercy and forgiveness. One of the two, a woman, bent down, a smile on her face, and squeezed the guards shoulder in an almost friendly gesture. The guard smiled back for a moment, relieved, before her face suddenly contorted into a picture of confusion and then, with the horror of realization, pain, as the woman's hand gripped his shoulder with renewed vigour, her fingers sinking into his flesh, causing the guard to scream aloud in agony.

Her other hand reached out and grabbed his neck, twisting it to the side with a sickening _crack, _cutting off the guard's screams. The woman, still smiling, glanced over at her companion, who nodded, and they both took off, bursting through the ceiling of the asylum and disappearing into the clouds miles above Arkham island.

After a couple of seconds the asylum itself erupted into a vacuum of noise and energy as an explosion tore through it, the entire facility torn apart in a blinding flash, followed by the slow fall of debris and ash, smoke thrown up into the air to be seen for miles around. Where the asylum had stood only a few seconds before, now there was only a giant smoking crater to testify to its existence, littered with rubble and burning debris.

A man gazed out onto the island as fire engines rushed past behind him, making their way to Arkham, fire flickering in his eyes as he lowered his binoculars. Even from this distance, he could still recognise the members of the organisation he had founded. Even with all the changes of the last few years, he could still recognise his former friends.

Karen hadn't changed that much, physically at least, he thought wryly to himself. Obviously she had forgone her old Power Girl costume in favour of her new uniform, but her…physique was still something that Bruce had no problem recognising. As for her partner…well…Captain Marvel's life was based on transformation. While his face may look the same as it ever did, Bruce had little doubt that the person he had once known and respected was long gone now.

This could have been him, he sadly realised, remembering the words that Harvey Dent had spoken to him a long, long time ago.

"_You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."_

Perhaps it would have been better to have died, than to have seen what he had seen over the last few days. His life's work, destroyed by a telepath for reasons unknown to him or anyone else that he had talked to. A world enslaved by the people that he had worked alongside only years before to protect its people.

But dying wasn't something that he was familiar with. A fall, no matter how far you have fallen, only serves to give you the opportunity to rise once more.

Bruce thought back to Harvey Dent, and reflected on the Joker's claims that he had resurfaced and gotten himself elected President of the United States. If anyone could answer his questions, it appears that Dent could. And Bruce finally had a team to help him get the answers that he so desperately craved.

It was time to stop cowering from the Shadows, hiding from their sight in terror that they might raise a hand against him. It was time to stop procrastinating, and finally act against the regime that had stolen everything and everyone he had believed in.

But first, Ivy still had to be dealt with, and plans had to be made. But Bruce already knew what he had to do, however distasteful he found putting his life into the hands of those he had spent years fighting.

It was time to head back to Watchtower.

It was time to _rise._


End file.
